As director Stephen Hopkins all but admits in a thorough yak-track, his update of the ’60s show about a family stranded in the stars is a schizoid business, caught between piss-take and reboot, kid-friendliness and something darker.
The hokey homilies are explained as old-school throwbacks. But even Hopkins’ ambitions falter: incoherent plotting, William Hurt’s wooden thesping and visuals that look dated in HD.
Weirdest of all: Gary Oldman camping it up in Joey Tribbiani audition mode
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